


Blast Off and Vortex Go To Vos

by ultharkitty



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blast Off and Vortex are arrested for a crime they did commit.</p><p>Set in the Golden Age, Dysfunction AU.</p><p>Contains crack, implied violence, off-screen abduction and murder, off-screen interfacing. </p><p>With thanks to Ayngelcat for looking this over!</p><p>Written for the 2012 TF Gift Exchange on DW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blast Off and Vortex Go To Vos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naboru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/gifts).



"Are you scared of me?" Vortex said. He leant back in the purposefully uncomfortable chair and offered a wide friendly smile to the officer whose unfortunate job it was to interrogate him. "You can tell me, I won't laugh."

"I am not," the officer replied, obviously trying to sound firm. He was a Praxan, an alpha, all doorwings and shiny chrome details. Vortex doubted he'd been on the job for long; in the absence of a name badge, perhaps he'd call him Officer Rookie. "I can levy fines for an implied threat," said Officer Rookie, "Are you aware of that?"

"I dare you." Vortex propped his feet on the table, tipping the chair back on two legs. 

The officer cleared his vents with a huff. "There's a lot I could fine you for," he said. "An awful lot."

"So do it." Vortex yawned, baring his denta and making the most of his exposed face. The authorities had taken his battle mask along with his civilian grade weapons shortly after his arrest. It was nice to feel the air for a change.

It was also nice to feel the small yet significant weight of two fully charged laser scalpels just beneath his pectoral vent. For some reason, the sergeant on check-in had only rifled through his compartments. Lax, that's what it was. 

At least he was having fun. 

"You're not helping yourself," Officer Rookie said. 

Vortex drummed his fingers on the sides of the chair. "No," he said, "I don't suppose I am. Do you want me to?"

* * *

Blast Off hunched behind an under-sized desk, his aft planted precariously on an under-sized chair, and glared.

"Sir, if you could please answer the question." Sitting opposite him was a large green femme. Officer Powerhouse was her designation, but it seemed more like a description. She, Blast Off couldn't help but notice, had a chair of an appropriate size. 

"You know my name," Blast Off said. 

"I'm going to take that as an affirmative," Powerhouse said. "Designation Blast Off, construction date 82.34289 vorns post-emancipation. Initial purpose: space exploration. Current occupation: Head of Logistics for Onscorp Logistics and Trading." She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "You've come a long way from Altihex."

"I am capable of interstellar flight," Blast Off said. " _That_ is a long way."

"I'm sure it is, and I'm very sure you are," Powerhouse said. "But I'm more concerned with what else you might be capable of. Where were you on the third night of the Vos air show?"

"In Vos," Blast Off replied. 

When it became evident he wasn't going to add to his comment, Powerhouse said, "Vos is a big place." 

Blast Off's feet itched where his cannons would usually have sat. What he wouldn't give just to shoot a hole in the wall and fly away. "Not," he said, "compared to space."

Powerhouse hit the intercom, giving Blast Off a dry look as she spoke. "Bring me a cube of mid grade," she said, "It's gonna be a long night."

* * *

Vortex rocked on the tipped up chair. "Was I in Vos?" he mused. "Third night of the Air Show?" He ruffled his tail rotors. "First night I was in Kaon at the Rusty Cog. You ever been there? It's this little bar in the foot of this decommissioned Guardian." He considered Officer Rookie's stern little face. "Don't suppose you have," he said. "Second night... Frag, think I got overcharged with some grounders I met in Camshafts, and we went racing around the foundries. That's another thing you can add to that list of fineable offences you got going there... One count of interfacing while airborne, two counts of flying under the influence, and one count of accidentally scratching the bodywork on this _fine_ piece of aft Praxan, I mean _wow_ you should'a seen him. Not that he minded..."

Officer Rookie's mouth twitched. 

"Looked kinda like you," Vortex said, apparently giving it some thought. "Got the same thing going for him in the hood area." He tipped the chair upright just long enough to make an unsubtle gesture with both hands over his own chest. "Y'know, like that. He was bigger though, and he didn't have that stick up his exhaust."

"The third night," Officer Rookie said. There was a square of slightly off-coloured paint on his shoulder. Location of his name badge, Vortex thought. Probably locked in a desk somewhere, so Vortex couldn't know his designation, couldn't use it against him. Ha, they were learning. 

"What about it?" Vortex asked. 

The Praxan looked at his datapad, and Vortex could see him forcing down the frustration. "Describe your whereabouts on the third night of the Vos air show."

"In Vos." Vortex shrugged. "You're gonna ask where in Vos now ain't you?"

Officer Rookie nodded.

"You gotta say 'yes'," Vortex said, laying on his best 'I'm being helpful' voice. "For the recording? Otherwise none of this is admissible in court. Unless..." He grinned at the ceiling and waved. "Unless you're getting this all on a vid."

It was only because he was watching for it that Vortex saw Officer Rookie flinch.

* * *

"I will assume that a crime has been committed," Blast Off stated. He nudged the table leg with his foot, trying to dispel the itching.

"You assume right," Powerhouse confirmed. "Did you remain at the Electrum Fountain Hotel for the duration of your stay in Vos?"

"Of course not," Blast Off said. 

"And?" Powerhouse prompted. 

Blast Off just stared. 

Powerhouse stared back. 

"And _what?_ " Blast Off said. "How am I to provide assistance if your questions lack specificity?"

" _And what_ ," Powerhouse said, "did you do when you weren't in your hotel room?"

Blast Off rolled his optics skywards. If he transformed, chances were his alt mode would tear a hole right through the ceiling with only minimal damage to his frame. Onslaught would pay for his repairs; he would have to. It was Onslaught who had got him into this situation.

A plague of rust on senators and their customs regulations, Blast Off thought. And on Kaon's criminal factions, and their distaste for the same. They could all go to the Pit. 

And so could Vortex; the rotary could find his own way home. 

"Was that a bit too unspecific?" Powerhouse said. "Maybe you'd like it if I spoke more slowly."

Blast Off suppressed a growl. "Inventory: Vos Air Show..."

* * *

"Stop." Vortex slammed his fist on the table, making Officer Rookie jump. "You're doing it all wrong. You got no presence. Here, let me..." He swung out of the chair and onto the table, crossing his legs and leaning over his interrogator in a way that he liked to think of as productive looming. Behind him, his chair teetered for a moment on two legs, then clattered to the floor.

Officer Rookie's mouth moved, but nothing came out. 

"And here's another error," Vortex said, taking the datapad from the Officer's unresisting hand. "This should be blank. It's just a prop. Have everything up on your internal feed, not where I can take it off you." He jumped up on the table, holding the datapad out of arm's reach, and scrolled through the contents. 

Officer Rookie finally found his voice. "Give that back this instant!"

"How about no?" Vortex said. His optics left the datapad long enough to see Officer Rookie's firearm aimed in his direction. He snickered. "Hey look, you got a little vid of me talking to those seekers. You ever frag a seeker? They get all that charge build up while they're flying, and-"

The door burst open, and a large green femme strode in. She was tall, almost twice the height of Officer Rookie, who she glared at as though he was about to be busted down to Cadet Rookie. She grabbed Vortex around the rotor hub and pulled, using the astrosecond where his mind reeled and his frame wanted nothing more than to go straight into recharge to swipe the datapad from his hands. 

Vortex sighed, remaining limp as the femme kicked his chair upright and set him down in it. 

"I'm Officer Powerhouse," she said, as the door closed on Officer Rookie's wilting doorwings. "I'll be taking over this interview."

* * *

Blast Off could only speculate as to where Officer Powerhouse had gone and why. Not that he cared. All he wanted was to be released.

No, that was a lie. All he wanted was to be released _and_ for Onslaught to stop sending him on trips to legitimate business meetings at exactly the same time and to exactly the same places as he sent Vortex to perform considerably less legal tasks. 

He must have been the most expensive getaway ride in Cybertronian history. 

After half a breem, he swapped his under-sized chair for the one Officer Powerhouse had occupied. That was better, although his legs still itched. He wondered if they'd return his cannons. They were civilian grade; he never went on this kind of trip with illegal hardware. But he was a suspect in a high profile murder - or so the stern green representative of the law had informed him - he had no idea what would be returned to him and when.

If they didn't give his star charts back, there would be trouble.

* * *

"This is Senator Valence," Powerhouse said. She held the holo-sheet for him to see, but obviously wouldn't allow him to take it.

"Uh-huh?" Vortex said, as though he'd had no closer acquaintance with the senator than seeing him on the news feeds. 

"Valence disappeared from his hotel room in the Electrum Fountain on the third night of the Vos air show." Powerhouse pressed the corner of the sheet and the image changed. "His parts began to surface forty-five joors later at an industrial chemical reclamation plant outside of Kalis."

"What am I looking at?" Vortex tilted his head. He knew exactly what he was looking at; he'd thought Valence's face had been ugly before he'd thrown it in the chem pit.

"His helm," Powerhouse said levelly. She pressed the sheet to change the hologram again. "The cranial portion complete with optical orbits. Forensics believes the cybernetic brain was removed before the body was dumped. Luckily for us, his leg got caught in a turbine, and the whole pit had to be drained."

It wasn't hard to keep from laughing, but control was more of a challenge under Powerhouse than it had been with Officer Rookie. "Only one reason you're showing me this," Vortex said. "You think I had something to do with it."

"Did you?" Powerhouse had a level glare, neutral but loaded with the promise of a world of trouble if she didn't get to the truth. 

Vortex decided he liked her. "Pick me up by the rotors again and I'll tell you," he said.

* * *

Blast Off had entered a light recharge by the time the door opened. He brought his optics online, flickering as they adjusted to the light.

Powerhouse had not come back. Instead, he was faced with a small grounder of the type who liked to think of themselves as Alpha caste. Blast Off sniffed his derision; they couldn't even fly. 

The grounder stiffened, then sat gingerly in the small chair. It was the perfect size for him. 

"I have a few questions," he said. "I would appreciate your cooperation."

"Then ask them," Blast Off snapped. 

The grounder vented deep, and Blast Off wanted to smack him back into the corridor. Did they get paid to waste time? 

Eventually, the grounder's vocaliser reset. "On the fourth day of the Vos air show, did you keep company?"

"Unfortunately," Blast Off said. "Do close your mouth, I can see where this is going." He straightened his back, his arms still folded. "I spent the day with that insufferable heliformer."

"Insufferable?"

"You can't have met him," Blast Off sighed. 

The grounder shuddered, and Blast Off almost smiled; perhaps he had. "And what did you do?" the grounder asked. 

Blast Off's engine growled, and the vibration made his interviewer startle. "That is hardly relevant," he said. He'd spent long enough suppressing the memory of those parts in his cargo hold, of Vortex putting his hand in the empty helm and waggling the jaw to make it sing. He didn't appreciate being reminded now, particularly not when it became obvious that his response was not enough. 

"I'm afraid it _is_ relevant," the small grounder said. "On the third day of the Vos air show, Senator Valence was abducted from the hotel room four doors from your own. He was then murdered, and the following day his body was disposed of in a chemical plant on the outskirts of Kalis. A shuttle answering your description was seen flying from Vos in the direction of Kalis on the day in question. And so, I need to ask you, what were your exact whereabouts on the fourth day of the Vos air show, and what were you and the rotary you mentioned doing?"

Blast Off groaned. And so it came to this, the latest indignity in a long and ever-expanding inventory of insults he had been forced to endure since his expulsion from the Institute in Altihex. 

"I was in my hotel room in Vos," Blast Off snarled. "With Vortex. We were... intimate. I refuse to divulge the details of my private life. If you want a comprehensive account, I suggest you ask _him_."

* * *

"You could have saved us both a lot of time." Powerhouse was not happy. Vortex dangled from her hand by his rotors, motor relays static and his hydraulics at a weird state of ebb. Even Onslaught never bothered to hold him up for this long.

Powerhouse obviously thought of it as a weapon in her anti-rotary arsenal. 

Vortex thought of it as an interrogation to remember, possibly when he was alone. 

"He doesn't like me talking about it," Vortex said, because pushing his luck was always fun. "Have your guys got the audio from the hotel yet? They record _everything_ , you know that? Heh, the shuttle didn't."

That was a lie, just like his claim that he and Blast Off had spent the entire day in each other's company in the hotel room. A high quality recording of them conversing (and scrap, but that had been difficult to put together) had played for the duration of their trip to Kalis. The more entertaining portions of the soundtrack were, Vortex was pleased to recall, all genuine. Not that he could see a repeat of it any time soon; the shuttle would not be pleased. 

But when _was_ the shuttle pleased?

Powerhouse's large engine rumbled, and she set Vortex on the floor. "Thank you for your eventual and untimely co-operation, sir," she said. 

"Sorry?" Vortex grinned. "Not sure I heard you over the sarcasm. Can I have my guns back now?"

Powerhouse smiled. "I don't think so," she said. "We've got you on twenty seven different public order offences in five cities over the past two orns alone. That adds up to nineteen thousand credits or one quartex in jail."

"Nineteen thousand? For _that?_ " 

Powerhouse smirked, and folded her big green arms over her chest. "You're a public nuisance," she said. "Now what's it to be?"

* * *

Blast Off stood on the balcony of his room in the Electrum Fountain. A datapad lay on the balustrade, hooked up by a cable to his wrist. His star charts were still there, although someone had hacked the encryption. They could just have asked him for the code. Morons.

Vortex perched on the ornate metalwork, sipping high grade and occasionally powering up his weapons for no perceptible purpose. 

"You owe me," Blast Off said. 

Vortex looked up as a trine of seekers speared overhead. "Add it to the log," he said. "Fragged if I'm gonna remember that."

"Three hundred and fifty two thousand and fourteen credits," Blast Off said, "and five favours of an unspecified nature to be collected at a time of my choosing." Not that Blast Off could imagine any time he would need the rotary's help, but in their line of business it never hurt to be prepared. 

Vortex downed the rest of his cube with a sigh. "You know I'm good for it," he said, and for once he seemed content to just stand there, taking in the cityscape, watching the fliers go by. 

Blast Off nodded. He didn't know how narrowly they'd escaped prison, and he didn't want to know. He watched as the city lights began to dim and the first stars of evening were revealed. Their own star was too distant now for true night and day, but still he welcomed that artificial marker of their planet's rotation. 

Just as he welcomed these rare moments when Vortex proved that he was, against all evidence, capable of shutting up. 

Blast Off suppressed a smirk and reached for his drink.


End file.
